


Until We're Separate Hearts

by gingerwriter



Category: High School Musical (Movies)
Genre: Friendship/Love, Headcanon, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Loss, Minor Character Death, Multi, Nostalgia, Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Post-Movie: High School Musical 3: Senior Year (2008), Reunions, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26530075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerwriter/pseuds/gingerwriter
Summary: The sudden death of Ms. Darbus, East High’s longtime drama teacher, has Wildcat Alumni rushing to return to Albuquerque. Her funeral, bringing together a group of friends who had long since lost touch.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	1. Let it Rain, Let it Pour

It’s been twenty-four hours.

Twenty-four hours since he was sitting, hunched over in one of those ugly, uncomfortable hospital chairs. Twenty-four hours since he was running through the hallways of Lovelace Medical Center, only to find she was already gone once he had reached her room. Twenty-four hours since his world turned upside down. 

Twenty-four hours since Heather Darbus died of a heart attack.

Troy’s mentor, his friend, his family… just gone.

Only eight hours since he had to break the news to their kids. The kids working their butts off to have a stunning production of Footloose ready in three weeks. Yes, they were waist-deep in preparation for this year’s spring musical. He canceled rehearsal for today and tomorrow. No way he could survive it and the students no doubt need time to process everything that has transpired in the last twenty-four hours.

The first person he called was his dad. 

Sitting in that ugly, uncomfortable hospital chair, tear-stained cheeks, his phone to his ear, he says, “It’s Heather.” Swallowing hard, he explains, “She had a heart attack. Dad, she didn’t make it. I got here as soon as I could but it was too late.” Even Jack Bolton, Heather’s former, self-proclaimed, arch-enemy, wept for her. 

Coach Bolton and Ms. Darbus hated each other, for years. Until one day, they found they could agree on only one thing and that one thing was all that mattered. There was enough of a foundation to build mutual respect upon and eventually, to everyone else’s surprise, a friendship.

That one thing they could agree on? Troy. 

Troy knows he has to tell the others. They would want to know. He knew all of them would want to come back to celebrate her, to remember the good old days. They would come, no matter how far their lives had taken them away from East High or each other, they would come. 

Luckily, he drafted the email before he started drinking. It’s formal, informative, melancholy. Troy plans to send it to all of his old buddies but has yet to press send. He would have already if he could, but he couldn’t. Attached to the short message was her obituary and information about the services honoring her life in the coming week. 

Troy looks down at his list, vision a little blurry from (what?) his fifth glass of something old that warmed its way all the way down to his belly. Not that he had one. What he does have? Rock hard abs. A feature, he is very proud of and works incredibly hard to maintain. And, with a few drinks in him, he no longer fears any accusations of narcissism. He always liked that, how alcohol could make his self-consciousness disappear. 

On his desk is the list of people Troy knew he needed to include in the email chain. The list is as follows:

Sharpay Evans  
Ryan Evans  
Kelsi Nielson  
Martha Cox  
Chad Danforth  
Zeke Baylor  
Jason Cross  
Taylor McKessie

And… Gabriella Montez.

Gabi. God, Troy had not spoken to her in years. If he was honest, it feels like a lifetime since he has even heard her voice. A lifetime of torture. 

He would have gladly spent the rest of his life with her, content to hear Gabriella’s voice every day for as long as she would have him. Troy would have chosen that life over this… silence, a hundred times over. But, it is not up to him.

Over the years, Troy did everything he could to leave the life he could have had behind him. But, he could never quite let go. It would never matter how many women had come and gone in the years following their breakup because none of them were her. It would never matter who was in his bed if it wasn’t Gabriella beside him. He is convinced, and will never not be convinced, Gabriella Montez was it for him. 

They may have been young when they met, young when they fell in love, but he knew she was “the one”. She is “the one”. Troy was simply cursed to live a life where “the one” lived miles and miles away, never spoke to him, and whose life would be complete without him. When his life would never be complete without her.

He can cross off Chad Danforth, Troy shot him a text earlier in the day. Chad and Heather were never that close. Only in the later years, were they able to call each other friends, through Troy. Just as his father and Ms. Darbus had. 

Chad sends his condolences and promises to be at the wake and the funeral. When Troy brought up Taylor, his former teammate had shrugged it off. It wouldn’t be a problem, Taylor and him had cleared the air between the two of them a few years ago and even texted every once and a while to check in on one another. They were friends now. 

Friends. Troy and Gabriella had never attempted that. The pair had just quit cold turkey. They knew they could never be just friends. 

Troy sits in his home office. A glass in his hands. Completely and utterly broken. The day’s events had beaten him to a pulp and yet he was forced to hold it together in front of his students. This must have been the best acting he had ever done in his life. He was able to play the role of Mr. Bolton, while Troy was slowly collapsing in on himself on the inside. 

He could recall two other times in his life, that he had ever felt this empty.

One. The day love died. He and Gabi called it quits. The two of them had ended their relationship several times over the years and had ultimately resolved things time and time again, but he knew this was different than the ones that had come before. They had never had a fight like that, ever. He lost Gabriella, it broke him. But eventually Troy bounced back, mostly.

Two. The day love died all over again. A year or two after dropping out of Berkley and moving back to Albuquerque, his parents sat him down. They had fallen out of love. It had slowly been happening for years without either one of them realizing it. Troy, now a grown man, cried like a baby. Troy’s parents got a divorce, it broke him. But eventually Troy bounced back, mostly.

Then, twenty-four hours ago, love died again, Heather Darbus went with it. And Troy hoped, begged, and pleaded with the universe that it would be the last time. 

He did not know if he could come back from this. 

Troy gathers all the strength he has left, preparing to send the email he had written to his friends. 

He finally sends it. 

Troy then gathers all the liquid courage he has gained, picking up his phone. He needed her now, more than he had ever needed her in his entire life.

I know we haven’t spoken in years.

But something’s happened.

Please come home.

I need you.

For the first time in god knows how long, Troy Bolton texts Gabriella Montez. He throws his phone to the corner of his desk before fully breaking down, sobbing. He needs her. Love died again today and Troy needed the universe to give him some back. 

__________

Gabriella Montez stays up late. Too busy to go home for the night, this case, too huge, and these clients, too persistent. She sits in her swanky corner office, chopsticks in her hands, finally taking a break long enough to get some food in her stomach.

Her phone all of a sudden begins buzzing rapidly. Four times in a row. She’s quick to reach for it and quick to drop it when she sees who the texts are from.

(4 missed messages)  
Troy Bolton

Pushing through the fear that wells up in her chest, she decides to look. What could Troy possibly have to say to her after all these years? She had not even heard his voice in - well, she did not know how long. It felt like a lifetime had passed between then and now. A lifetime without him. They were just kids then, trying to grow up, face the future, make it through college. 

She knew where he was now. Gabriella had found clues on social media, clues through Taylor from Chad, and on the East High faculty web page. After they had split up, he returned to Albuquerque, went to school, got a job at East High. He worked with Ms. Darbus, directing productions, helping out with the basketball team, even had his own homeroom class. He was living his life, just as Gabriella was living hers.

I know we haven’t spoken in years.

But something’s happened.

Please come home.

I need you.

Maybe it was instinct. There was no thinking involved. No weighing the pros and cons. He needed her. So, she picked up the phone.

“Troy?” She says. “It’s me.” Gabriella is worried and desperate to know if he’s alright. A lifetime of silence between them be damned! “What happened?”

“Gabi?” She can hear his heavy breathing, the silent sobs that enveloped his body, that Gabriella could tell he was trying to hide. He was trying to be strong. He was trying to hide his pain. Or maybe, Troy was just gathering enough breath so that he could tell her what was going on. “I just had the worst day of my entire life.”


	2. You Were Always Right Beside Me

Ms. Darbus was gone. 

A heart attack.

Gabriella could not believe it. The man she had once loved was torn to shreds. And she had just spoken to him for the first time in years. Looking down at her phone, she realizes the two of them had spoken for almost an hour. Never did they mention the lifetime of silence they had shared separately until this day. Until he had broken it with his messages. Until she had broken it by picking up the phone.

It was obvious that Troy had been drinking. She didn’t blame him. With the day he’s had, he probably needed every last drop that his home bar could bring him. Her ex-boyfriend had rambled on for a bit. His brain no doubt jumbled and messy following the day’s traumatic events. Troy was at the hospital when their former teacher and mentor had passed away, arriving just a few moments too late to be by her side when she was alive. Gabriella’s heart ached for him, it ached for Heather. 

She didn’t know how close they had got. It made sense, she knew they had worked as a team for the past several years. They must have spent many hours together, shared many laughs, and shared in every euphoria of a show completed. Together from auditions to closing night, semester after semester, the pair were bound to have bonded.

Picking up the phone once again, Gabriella brings her phone to her ear. Tears still well in her eyes, the shock of the phone call, had not worn off just yet. Her friend picks up immediately. “Hey, Taylor. Have you read the email yet?”

Her voice blares through the phone, groggy and perturbed. “What email? God, Gabriella what time is it?”

“It’s only eleven. It doesn’t matter, I obviously woke you, so you haven’t seen it.”

Taylor sighs. “Seen what?”

“Taylor, Ms. Darbus died yesterday.”

Gabriella hears a sudden rustling coming from the other side of the phone. She must have shot up in bed. “Ms. Darbus? The ‘you convinced me to do the spring musical our last year of high school’ Ms. Darbus?” Gabriella hums a yes in response, “What? How? I didn’t even think she was that old?”

“I know, right!” She agrees. “Ms. Darbus wasn’t that old at all. Heart attack.”

“Heart attack. Wow.” Taylor pauses for a moment before asking. “How did you find out?”

Gabriella swallows hard, preparing herself for whatever reaction her best friend has. She had awakened her from her slumber just minutes before, Taylor had no doubt left her filter at the door before going to sleep. “Well, Troy kind-of reached out to me.”

“Troy! You haven’t talked to that ‘basketball guy’ since -”

“- I know when I last talked to him, I was there.” Gabriella cuts her off quickly as if to say don’t you dare bring that up. If no one brought it up again it would be too soon. She doesn’t like to think about their last days together, it hurts too much. “Troy and Heather Darbus were close. He’s devastated.” She decides to explain instead of remembering. “He texted me earlier, drunk, sad, saying he needed me. I called him back immediately.”

“Wow,” Taylor says. “This is a lot.”

“I know.”

“How do you feel?”

“I don’t know.” Gabriella shrugs and leans back in her chair. Almost melting into the seat, after the day she’s had. “Weird.” She pauses searching for another word. “Sad.” Then she sighs, “It was good… to hear his voice.” Gabriella remembers how her heart had stopped, the moment she heard his all too familiar breath, sighing, gasping. In the same breath, Troy had said her name. His voice, her name… haunted her dreams for years. Today, it was real.

Gabi.

He was the only person who had ever called her Gabi.

“Don’t get all starry-eyed and loved-up again. You and I both know Troy is a slippery slope for you.” Taylor says in warning.

Gabriella shakes her head, biting her lip. “I know, I know.”

“Don’t hate me.” Taylor quips. “Those are your words, not mine, remember, I was nominated by you as your first line of defense if this ever happened.” She pauses. “Listen, girl. I know. I know he’s broken right now. I know your heart is breaking for him. You loved Troy for a long time, it's normal to want to be there for him, to rescue him. But you can’t.”

She decides to try and change the subject slightly, wanting to talk about anything else but how she needed to stay away from him. “Troy sent out an email to everyone. It has information about the wake and the funeral. Do you think you can take off any time next week? Go to the services?”

“I don’t know.” Taylor sighs. “This is a lot. I’ll read the email in the morning and check-in with my boss. You should go home, get some sleep. You’re still at the office aren’t you?”

Gabriella laughs, staring down at the files and papers splayed out in front of her. She was the only one left in the office today, her assistant had left hours ago. “Well, you know me. All work and no play. Besides, the apartment feels so empty now, without you there.” She teases her best friend for moving out, while also revealing that she had been feeling a little lonely lately. After being roommates for what felt like forever, Taylor had finally flown the coop, to shack up with her fiancé.

“Hey! No guilting me. You thought it was a good idea too!”

“How’s that going, anyway?” Gabriella asks. 

She hears a sigh from the other end of the phone. Taylor adopts a hushed tone, probably because the man they are speaking of is sleeping right beside her. “It’s great. I love James, I really do but, Gabriella…his socks are everywhere.”

“So, you’re saying you love me more… right?” She continues to tease.

Sighing again, Taylor plays along. “Well, at least you knew how to put things in a perfectly good laundry basket.” The pair settle into a small silence. Once again, remembering the reason for Gabriella’s call… Troy and Ms. Darbus. The joking quickly subsided. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be okay.” Gabriella forces herself to smile, despite knowing, Taylor couldn’t see her, no one could see her. “But, you’re right. I should really call it a night.”

“I’m always right,” Taylor states matter-of-factly.

Gabriella rolls her eyes in response, but nevertheless smiles for real this time. No matter the circumstance, she could always count on Taylor being Taylor. She had always been a constant, ever since they met junior year. “Yeah, yeah.” She begins to sort the various documents spread along her desk and pack everything she needs for the night into her purse, all the while balancing her phone between her ear and her shoulder. “Goodnight, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

After saying goodbye to Taylor, she drives home, exhausted. She launches herself into bed as soon as she can get there, not bothering to brush her teeth or change her clothes. She could do that tomorrow. Everything could wait for tomorrow. Sorrow could wait until tomorrow, over-analyzing her conversation with Troy could wait for tomorrow, the weight of today could wait until tomorrow. Gabriella just needs to sleep. 

Just as she feels the lull of dreams pulling at her sleeve, her phone buzzes again. Gabriella ignores the first buzz, then the second, but gives up by the third.

Exasperated, she opens her eyes, removing the device from its charger.

(2 missed messages)  
Kelsi Nielson

(1 missed message)  
Ryan Evans

She clicks on the multiple messages from Kelsi first.

Did you get the email about Ms. Darbus?

This is insane. I can’t believe she’s dead. She’s the reason I have anything.

I’m living my dreams in New York, because of her. I owe her everything. Bless her soul.

Gabriella responds.

I know. It’s insane. I’m sorry for your loss. I know you knew her better than I did. 

She believed in you Kesli! She prophesied your talent and success before anyone of us saw it coming. Play, tonight. Something for her.

That always seems to help you.

Sleep well, Kels. I love you.

A response from the pianist quickly lights up Gabriella's phone.

Love you too!

I will! Sitting down at the piano as we speak. We’ll talk tomorrow. 

Gabriella stares down at the messages. She wonders what Kelsi is doing up so late. Why was she up late enough to get the email so soon? It was just as late here as it was in New York. As opposed to Albuquerque, DC and New York City were in the same time zone, it was later here. If Gabriella had to guess, Kelsi was up composing a new piece, as she does whenever inspiration strikes.

She loves Kelsi. Ever since they had gone away to college, they had definitely grown apart, as most high school friends do. But those kinds of bonds, they may fade over time but they never truly die. Over the years, they’d catch up here and there, random things, important things, music things. A couple of times, Kelsi had messaged Gabriella on social media, sending her videos or audio clips of pieces she had written. Most of the things she would send would have some connection to East High. A memory would become a song. Or a song Kelsi had written in high school would get a rewrite. Once, she had even sent Gabriella a piece intended to be played at Troy and Gabriella’s wedding, back in the days when everyone believed their lives together were inevitable. 

The last time the pair had truly spoken was probably Christmas. A brief well wishes for the coming year. Gabriella finds herself missing her. Her heart warms at the thought of seeing Kelsi soon, in person, even under the most terrible of circumstances. She could not wait to wrap her arms around her, to hug her once again. 

It takes all her energy to click back to the text from Ryan. While she had briefly spoken to Kelsi, he kept sending messages.

Did you hear about Heather? I can’t believe this is happening.

I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do.

I didn’t realize how big of an impact she had on my life until right now.

I can’t believe she’s gone.

Please tell me you’re coming home for the funeral and everything. I miss you.

Ryan is in Albuquerque now too. After graduating from Juilliard, he tried the Broadway, off-Broadway way circuit for a few years. Despite several steady stints in the ensemble, he packed up and flew across the country to scope out some gigs in LA, crashing with his sister before getting his own place. Then, Ryan inexplicably got up and moved again, a few months ago. Landing him right back where he started, Albuquerque, New Mexico. Gabriella hadn’t had the opportunity to ask about that. She still does not know why he dropped everything to suddenly move back home. That boy was talented, there was no doubt he had a bright future and blossoming career ahead of him, why had he given it all up so quickly?

But those were questions for another time.

Gabriella shoots a few texts to Ryan "Jazzsquare" Evans, according to his contact saved on her phone. 

I heard. My head is still spinning.

I miss you too, Ryan. Very much.

Her phone lights up again.

You didn’t answer my question… are you coming home?

Gabriella smiles as her fingers move expertly on the phone's keyboard.

Of course, I am! I want to be there to say goodbye. And to give you the biggest hug ever. I can’t wait to see you.

I’m sorry to cut this short. But I really need to go to bed. I’ll talk to you in the morning my friend.

Xo

Finally, Gabriella rests her head on her pillow, silences her phone, and waits for sleep to overtake her.


	3. Imagine Having Everything

Forty-eight hours later her plane lands at Albuquerque National Sunport. It had been a while since Gabriella had taken any length of time off of work, so it was relatively easy to convince the other partners at her firm to approve her proposal for four weeks of semi-vacation time. She would continue to work remotely on her open, high-stakes Jefferson and Vimini cases while she had passed off the rest of her caseload to her colleagues and a few interns. It had been a while since Gabriella had a real break and even now she brought work home with her.

She collects her things at baggage claim, her briefcase, backpack, and suitcase while shooting a quick text to Taylor to assure her best friend that the plane ride had gone smoothly and that she had arrived at her destination. Taylor could not get time off until the day before the funeral. Then, she makes her descent down the escalator, eyes wide open, excitedly scanning the airport for her chauffeur, who informed her they’d be waiting at the bottom of the escalator. 

Her eyes land on a whiteboard being held high in the air. Her name, in thick, bold red marker scrawled across it. The cliche plucked right from a movie scene as if she expected anything less, her friend has always had a flair for the dramatics. 

“Gabriella!”

Breaking into a run, she makes her way across the airport. Her driver drops the whiteboard as she comes hurtling toward him ready to embrace her. Gabriella jumps into his arms, the force of it nearly knocking the twosome over - nearly. She wraps her legs around his waist, as he lifts her with surprising ease. 

“I’m impressed,” Gabriella speaks softly into the crook of his neck. “Have you been working out?”

“I’m glad you noticed.” He answers proudly. “I’ve been working hard.” He squeezes his friend a few times. “How was your flight?”

“Fine.” She sighs, melting into him for just a moment. “God, I’ve missed you.”

Gabriella can feel his lips curl into a smile, brushing her shoulder. “Not as much as I’ve missed you. I’m so happy you’re here, I’m so happy you’re home. How are you?”

“Alright.” With that, he gently sets her down. And for the first time, Gabriella is able to get a good look at his face. He’s smiling. But it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. She reaches up to caress his cheek, he leans into, letting his face drop into the palm of her hand. “How are YOU doing, Ryan?”

Ryan smiles sadly at her. “It’s been a rough couple of days.” 

She runs her thumb lightly across her friend’s cheek. Gazing at him intently, she says, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

As if a mirror image, Ryan brings his hand up to Gabriella’s face, too. Returning the same loving gaze, he replies, “I’m sorry for your loss, too.”

They both nod at each other, with small smiles.

Ryan then grabs Gabriella's suitcase. Pointing in the direction of the parking garage he speaks while taking his friend's hand in his own. “To the Montez household?”

“To the Montez household.” She confirms cheerfully.

__________

Gabriella’s mother is asleep when they arrive, so Gabriella lets herself and Ryan in using her spare key. As quietly as possible, the twosome carries her things up to her bedroom. Which her mother has always left relatively untouched, even after her daughter graduated college, even after law school, except for occasionally running the vacuum over the carpet. Most kids come home after their first year of being way to find their childhood bedroom has been transformed into an art studio, a home gym, or an office space.

Not her’s. Her’s was like walking through a time portal.

Ryan said as much. “I miss studying with you guys after school.” He says wistfully. “How is our girl Taylor anyway? How’s the new apartment, how’s James?”

“They are great,” Gabriella says as unzips her suitcase. “Still as disgusting in love as ever.” They both laugh. “They have me over for dinner and a glass of wine about once a week, they like to make sure I’m not working too hard or getting too lonely. Since I made partner last fall I haven’t made a lot of time for pleasure or relaxation.”

“I should visit more.” 

“You should.”

Ryan flings himself onto Gabriella’s bed before making himself comfortable.

“I’m sensing you haven’t had many overnight guests lately.” Ryan wiggles his eyebrows, teasingly. 

“Not for a while, no.” Gabriella doesn’t elaborate any further, carrying a stack of perfectly folded clothes to her dresser. “You know…”, She smirks while looking at her friend out of the corner of her eye. “... I could, as always, use the company… or even a roommate…?”

Ryan smiles at her proposal but shakes his head. “No, no, I couldn’t”

“Why not?! Plenty of movies and tv shows shoot in the city, lots of theatre companies, you could do some productions, probably get the lead in everything because you’re so freaking talented.” Ryan blushes at her compliment but continues to shake his head. “Just… listen to me, okay?” He laughs at her and gestures for Gabriella to continue. “Stop laughing, I’m serious. Think about it. You and me. Together. Taking the legal and theatre world by storm, going out at night, eating breakfast in the morning, going for a run on the Mall… come on, Ryan. Doesn’t that sound amazing?”

“Of course it does.” 

“Then what’s the hold-up, Ryan? This has to be the third time that I’ve platonically proposed we run away to D.C. and live happily ever after.” She pretends to pout.

“And it is very cute how excited you get about this, but I am not going to move to Virginia with you. At least not right now.” Gabriella whines playfully. “I’m sorry.” He says.

Gabriella picks up another stack of clothes and takes them to the dresser with a frustrated sigh. “Where have you been staying since you've been back anyway, do you get your own place?

With her back turned to Ryan, she can hear him audibly clear his throat.

He’s silent for a few moments. “Ryan?” Gabriella turns her head to him.

He has a dazed, far off look on his face.“Huh?”

“Ryan?”

“What?” He turns his head to Gabriella.

She laughs. “Um… I asked you if you have an apartment in town?”

“Oh, no.” He shakes his head. “I’ve been staying with my family.”

“Ah.” Gabriella carefully opens her backpack, sliding out her personal laptop, her work laptop, and their respective chargers. “You get to stay in the Evans Mansion, rent-free. No, I get it. I wouldn’t move into my dumb, lawyer’s salary apartment either. I bet someone does your laundry too.” 

“Stop it you!” Ryan launches a pillow at Gabriella. 

“Hey!’ She screeches through a fit of giggles, launching it right back at him.

“It is not a mansion...” The pillow flies once again. “It’s an estate...”

“Big difference, rich boy.” The pillow lands with an audible thwack to Ryan’s face.

They both dissolve into a fit of giggles. “Shit.” Gabriella actively tries to calm herself. “Shhhh.” She crawls onto the bed beside him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She buries herself in her pillow to absorb her laughter. When she finally picks her head up, Gabriella whispers to Ryan. “Shhhh. We shouldn’t wake my mom.”

“Shit. Sorry.” Ryan says before giggling again, trying to hold it in.

It takes a minute for them both to relax.

Gabriella turns to her friend, propping herself on her elbow. “Is your sister coming back for the funeral, too?” Ryan nods silently. “When does she get in?”

“Tomorrow. Afternoon.” He says simply. “She somehow convinced them to pause their shooting schedule for a whole week, so that she could come home.”

“Well, if anyone can convince a multi-million dollar company to put its film on hold it’s Sharpay Evans.”

Ryan smiles. 

Gabriella can tell he’s proud of his sister, proud of her success, even prouder to know her, to be her brother. But she can also tell it bothers him, still, seemingly living in his sister’s shadow, so many years later. It bothers him that she is filming her third major motion picture, in just this year alone, while he struggled for years in New York. But he would never say it aloud, he would never tell Sharpay that. Ryan loves everyone in his life so furiously that he often forgets to make himself, his career, his happiness a priority.

“Ryan…”

He turns to her. “Yeah?”

“Why did you leave L.A.?”

“Gabriella-”

“No.” She cuts him off. “You’re just as talented as your sister.” Gabriella reaches for his hand and he allows her to lace her fingers through his. “It may not have worked out as you expected in the city, I know that. But Los Angeles was supposed to be a fresh start… I mean you were only there a few months. Your big break could be just around the corner, Ryan.” She shakes her head. “I just… I don’t get it. I don’t get it, Ryan. I mean, you won’t go back to the city, won’t go back to live with your sister… you won’t move in with me? Have you given up? Given up on all your dreams, all you’ve ever dreamed of, all we’ve ever talked about since high school?”

“No, no. Of course not.”

“Then what? What happened?” She squeezes his hand. “Was it a traumatizing audition? Sick of your sister?” They laugh. “What?”

Ryan sighs. He turns his gaze to the ceiling, no longer looking her in the eye.

“Gabriella…” He sighs. “It’s complicated.”

Gabriella scooches closer to him. “But it doesn’t have to be… I believe in you, Ryan. You can make it, Ryan! I know you can.”

“It’s not about that.” He turns her. “Don’t you have more unpacking to do?”

Gabriella drops his hand and raises her arms in mock defeat. “Fine. Fine. You clearly don’t want to talk about this right now, so, I will give this ‘out’... but only because I love you.” She rises from the bed, reaches back into her backpack, pulling out her toiletry bag. She’s about to slip down the hall, to arrange her stuff in the bathroom, when she quickly turns back to him. Pointing, she narrows her eyes accusingly, “This is not over. We WILL have this conversation, in the future. You hear me?”

He nods and Gabriella takes this as a cue to make her way down the hallway. “I love you too,” Ryan calls, just loud enough for his friend to hear, but not loud enough to see the raft of Ms. Montez being awoken on a school night.

__________

Ryan sticks around until Gabriella is all settled in and ready for bed, before giving her a kiss on the cheek and making his way to his car. The discomfort he had felt as his friend pressed him about L.A. settled heavy in his chest, lasting all throughout the car ride, and continues to linger as kicks his shoes off in the foyer.

“I’m home!” He calls down the corridor. Ryan shrugs off his sweater and slips it on to a hanger in the front hall closet. “I locked up for the night if that’s okay.” He shouts, again.

“Cool!”

Ryan rounds the corner, eyes scanning the open concept first floor and throwing his keys on the island in the kitchen. He sighs, frustrated, exhausted. 

“How’s Gabriella?”

He does not turn at the sound of his partner’s voice, instead, staring intently at his keys, directing all of his angst, all of his turmoil, not at the man he loves but his keys. “She’s great.” He says flatly.

“Ry?” They could tell he was upset. “What’s wrong?”

Ryan finally looks at him, defeated. “I’m sick of lying to her.”

“I know you are.”

“I’m sick of hiding about why I left Los Angeles!” Ryan's volume slowly increases in his distress. The conversation with Gabriella that evening, playing over and over in his head. Fibbing about where he was living, why he so suddenly took a break from his life's work. His mind flashes back to the thousands of times he had fudged the truth to hide his relationship in the last few months. The only person he could truly talk honestly with is his sister and that's only because Sharpay had walked into the L.A. apartment the siblings had shared unannounced, finding the two of them making out on the couch. An accident is the only reason Ryan is able to talk openly about his feelings with someone besides his partner, without it feeling like a ginormous betrayal or breach of trust. Ryan may be a great actor but he couldn't help but feel increasingly tired of the whole charade. 

“I know.” Ryan watches his love rise from his place on the couch. “I'm sorry.” 

“I’m sick of pretending like I’m not the happiest I’ve ever been… with you.” Ryan suddenly grows eerily quiet.

Then, he sighs, his face in his hands, distressed. It feels like regressing, going backward, to a time in his life where honesty was not the best policy. Where a white lie, felt better and more compelling than any truth he could provide. With a deep breath, he begins to speak softer, kinder, gentler, “I get it, okay. I’ve been in your shoes, you know that. I’ve done the whole… coming out… thing. I’m doing my very best to be patient, but I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” His boyfriend opens his mouth to respond but Ryan stops them. “I’ve been in the closet. And I won’t go back in.”

“Ry… I’m not asking you to.” He takes Ryan’s hand in his own. Slowly bringing it to his lips, he presses soft kisses to each knuckle, then his palm. 

“I know you’re not. It’s… just starting to feel that way.” He sighs. “Like I’m back in the closet. I’m lying, I’m hiding, I’m pretending. I don’t like it.”

Two hands reach up settling on each side of Ryan’s face. One hand slides under his chin, urging Ryan to look into his eyes. He does. “I love you. I’m sorry, I don’t want you to feel like that. I’m just… I’m not ready.”

Ryan nods silently, in disappointment, in understanding. He leans forward, savoring their kiss, despite his anger, despite his guilt. He sighs when they pull away. “I love you too.” Without another word, he pulls himself away and begins walking toward the stairs.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m exhausted.” Exhausted in more ways than one. “I’m going, upstairs,” He says shortly. "Goodnight."

“Come back! Let’s talk about this Ryan.”

He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t turn around. He can’t. Ryan understands what it’s like to be in this place. To be confident in your sexuality and yet still be so, so, so afraid of what the rest of the world will say about it. He envies no one in this position. But, it does not make it any easier to wait. Wait for the person he loves to love themselves enough to let them be happy… together.

They've waited years to be together. It has been years of subtle flirting, pining, and waiting to find them both here, now, at this point in time. To be here and in love and happy. Ryan still cannot fathom how lucky he is to wake up every morning and see the love of his life, just lying there peacefully, in the bed - in the home, they share.

He’s waited this long… what’s a little bit longer?

“Ryan, please, come back downstairs!”

But love can only so far as to quell one's own fears. Love can only go so far as to excuse the discomfort one feels. 

Ryan hates it when he gets like this when he becomes snappy and cold.

You should never pressure anyone to come out. The only person who decides when or where or why is the person themselves. Everyone has their own journey that culminates in that one moment. But Ryan has had his journey. He has his own needs. Ryan has his own wants. And he is entitled to that too. He has his own fears, his own hangups. And he is entitled to that too. Ryan longs for his relationship to be public, he longs to proudly show off his boyfriend to his friends and family. He wants to go to a restaurant and hold hands, he wants to kiss while out drinking with friends, he wants to... tell his friend Gabriella that he is in love.

He wants all of this... with Chad.

But Chad isn't ready.

This is why Ryan tells him he loves him before going to bed, before he returns to being snappy and cold. He kisses him, before taking some time to be by himself.

“I said goodnight, Chad. I need a minute. I going to take a shower.”

Ryan disappears into the second story of the apartment, shutting their bedroom door behind him with a loud thud.


End file.
